


Rush for the Colt

by Daryl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidental Plot, Adventure, Betrayal, Case Fic, Demon!You, Dialogue, Drama, Fun, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Gender-neutral Reader, Humor, Metamorphosis, Motel, Plot, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Some Humor, Story, The Colt (Supernatural), Weird Plot Shit, demon!reader, friends - Freeform, season 4, y/n, you - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:33:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29447838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daryl/pseuds/Daryl
Summary: Reader insert (demon!reader).You are a Demon, awakened from a long sleep. The Winchesters have something of yours, and you try your best to gain their trust to get it back.Crowley's being a dick. Castiel is Castiel.Set during S4. E4 Metamorphosis.
Kudos: 2





	Rush for the Colt

CHAPTER 1

You awaken in the dark, covered in dust. You coughed and reached to the fabric covering your face, grateful that someone had trapped you in it, protecting your precious face from the annoying dust. Now that the devil's trap was taken down, everything felt better. You were your powerful demonic self again. But you still couldn't see a thing, exploring your surroundings with your hands you figured out you were in a sort of box. Damn hunters. It better not be a coffin.-you thought.

You cracked it open easily thanks to your supernatural abilities. You stood up and took a few hesitant steps in the creepy cellar, still drowsy from sleeping so much. Demons weren't supposed to sleep.

A hunter had done this to you, these last moments were quite vivid in your memory. You wondered if the spell inflicted upon you was intentional or failed to kill you, or worse, trap you. You shivered at the thought of being trapped for eternity in some bottle, before shrugging it off. I'm a motherfucking demon, demons don't have feelings. Apparently you still had a few, since you didn't feel as evil as usual, but more like before the work of hell's torture's inflicted upon you had corrupted your soul into a demonic cloud of smoke. Must be the spell, you concluded.

You spotted your way up the stairs out of this cold room and found yourself in front of a door, which lock thanks to your grip is now broken and flung open.  
You stumbled upon a couple in their living room. They must had been enjoying a late night TV show, before being interrupted by you. They started screaming at the monstrous sight of your self, covered in blood and pale from the dust. 

Damn humans. You thought, hidden in the veil, in a well lit street. You walked past pedestrians who couldn't see you from this plane of existence. There was too many people out at this late hour for your liking, which meant either hunters were too good at their jobs or your peers weren't doing theirs properly. The night should be realm of the dead, the undead and all in between. You soon understood why everyone was out, some late night shops were open.

You needed to freshen up and change clothes otherwise anyone seeing you would get upset. Screams of fear which used to be a delight to your ears were now merely an annoyance. You found a shop with clothes to your liking and after having freshened up in the bathroom, you changed into clothes you liked snatching them right off the shelves. Posing, you blinked at your reflection playfully, for a split second your whole eyes turning into a ball of tourmaline.

The humans at the checkout had to pay for their new clothes. Invisible, you walked through those who were queuing which caused a cold shiver as well as an inexplicable fear to run through them, such gratuity, just because you could. Pathetic.

Your lifestyle had perks.

A few minutes later, you turned visible at a street corner. Your fingers kept reaching at your ring finger, force of habit. It felt too bare. Something was missing, you realised.

You were enjoying the fresh air on your face, the moon tall and bright, proud in the dark blue sky of the night. Things were different from what you could remember, for example you didn't understand the point of those shiny devices people were staring at. You walked away from the city center into a house block, wondering if Hunters had made out new ways of hurting demons. From a distance you saw a car parked in front of a house whose drivers were peeping at the house's window. Some things never change, you thought. You frowned when you noticed they were looking at a man. Not a lady in a bra? Unusual.

Curious, you shifted into the veil to spy on them.

“And we're looking for?” Asked the one in the driver seat, lowering the thick black binoculars.

“Trevis said to keep an eye on anything weird.”

“Weird?”

“Yeah.”

He had a look again at the window through his binoculars, before letting them drop with an attitude.

“Alright well I've seen big weird, little weird, weird with crazy on top.  
But this guy, I mean c'mon this guy's boring.”

“I don't know, Dean. Travis seemed pretty sure.”

They huffed in frustration. You could feel a familiar aura centered around them. The one with longer hair straightened his posture which made something around his neck shine. You came a bit closer and realised he was wearing your precious ring, on some ugly string ! There it was.

They were looking out for the surnatural. You realised they were probably hunters. A hunter, from all things, had your ring. Great.

You followed their car at some motel, where you heard them talk some more about this Travis guy before knocking at his supposed door, but you couldn't get any closer because the place was warden-ed off against demons. You briefly inspected their car before noticing the trunk was also demon-proof, so you thought of leaving.

A few houses away, you stopped. Despite being alone, you felt watched. 

You turned around, and barely retained yourself from emitting an embarrassing noise, startled by a man standing inches from you.

“CHRIST, don't sneak up on me like that!” you hissed.

You knew this crossroad demon. You two had committed to a handful of deals in the past, mostly exchange of things valuable to demons. Your eyes were throwing knives at him. He was kind of an arsehole.

“I'm the one supposed to do the sneaking up. And you come when called and go fetch what I need, like a good boy.” you mocked.

“You grew sloppy. Where were you the last 40 years? Lost, stray?” he taunted.

You were searching for a cunning reply but the train of thought was interrupted by the realisation; 40 years? Damn. He grinned, he out witted you as usual.

“That's not your business Crowley” you replied defensively.

“Keep it that way.” He rolled his eyes.

Hands in his pockets, Crowley pointed at the peeping tom's car a few houses away with a nod and made a face before starting a new topic.

“The Winchesters brothers. Haven't you heard?” 

“What?”

He looked at you as if you were stupid, before changing his expression and shifting his stance ever so slightly. Something treacherous was brewing in him. He raised a brow.  
“You really don't know who they are?”

“No. Are they important ?.” You rubbed your bare finger, plotting in your mind.

“Quite. Hell has plans for them. Why are you stalking them ?”

“One of them has my bloody ring! He's parading it around on his neck!” You let out in frustration.

“Aha. See, the boys and I we're best mates. They love me. And I know them; there's no bloody way you'll retrieve what's right under their nose. Say... I've got an idea.”

Crowley grinned and locked his eyes onto yours. Oh you didn't like this. You both kept quiet as a bystander walked past by. No one noticed that you and the other demon didn't cast a shadow under the street light.

You didn't trust him from personal experience but you were confident you'd find a way to screw him over later.  
“I'm listening.”

“As I said, I can reason with them.  
You get your piece of metal and in exchange you will steal the Colt for me-”

“-Because crossroad demons can't steal or break deals.”

“Right, right. They'll never notice the bloody thing's gone, they have a boot full of them.” 

“You want this damn gun and are helpless”- You sneered.

“Don't rub it in.”

His gaze shifted behind you.

“Ah, bollocks.”

CHAPTER 2

"What?" 

You glanced behind you, confused. Crowley was gone. Shit. You shifted into the veil. The people you were previously spying on in the Black Chevy Impala drove past and you briefly heard the man while he drove past you.

"Dean, I swear I just saw two people disappear."

You spent the rest of the night doing your own thing. You had a plan, to pass for a hunter, befriend them to locate the Colt.

In the evening, looked for the Winchesters in the city, whom you located in the closest bar to their motel. A safe amount of time later, you entered the bar dressed in flattering clothes, feeling pretty good. You sat at the counter and ordered a drink from the bartender and despite your best pretenses, the drink didn't taste like anything. Demons didn't eat nor drink, the body you occupied was your own and had always been, it could turn into dark smoke and it was different for your fellow demons who needed a vessel to roam the Earth.

You spotted one of the hunters at a table from the corner of your eye. You were thinking of an excuse to go sit with them.

But you didn't need to because Dean, if so was his name, saw you and instantly came by and sat right next to you. Dean couldn't help himself and instantly turned on his chair toward you, grinning. Flirtatious seemed to be his second nature. You just wanted to pass for a fellow hunter, but this man's obsession with women/men was just as good a flaw for you to use.

You made eye contact, gathering your influencing powers. You often used it to gain stranger's trust for your best interests.

"What brings you in town?" He initiated.

"I'm a hunter."

"Really? What do you hunt?"

"Alas you would shit your pants if I told you."

He grinned.  
"Vampires?"

You feigned surprise, and nodded, pretending to take an other sip. You could see right through him and he would believe every word you said thanks to your powers; you could make anything up and he'd eat right at it.

“Yeah. Scary stuff. And werewolves too sometimes.” You grinned. "Name's Y/N"

"I'm Dean. So you're one of us. What brings you here Y/N?"

"There's a Rugaru in town."

" My brother and I are on it. Enough talk about work though. What do you say I buy you a drink first." He gestured at the bartender.

The bartender served you and the man a drink, you thanked Dean, pushed the previous one aside and had to take a sip of the new one, which didn't go down easy . Luckily, someone inserted himself between you two at this moment, hiding your grimace from the man.

"Dude, give us some space." Dean hissed.

You realised it was his brother, from the car. It was painfully obvious was still wearing your beloved ring on his neck. Crowley was right, it would be risky endeavour. Too bad it wasn't this one that wanted to shag. Dean noticed you looking at his brother's chest and threw an offended look. Oops. 

His brother rolled his eyes and ignored him, addressing the bartender instead.

"Excuse me, hi."

"Hi. What can I get for you?"

"I just have some questions if you don't mind." 

"Not at all" The bartender replied as he cleaned a glass.

"Do you remember a guy in a red shirt coming in last night, looking... sick?"

"Oh, yeah, t'was Jack. He really looked like shit. Is he okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Uh have you seen him at all today?"

"Nope, sorry."

Dean lost his patience, stood up and elbowed his brother in the ribs.

"What the hell Dean!" he winced.

“Dude. They're hunting the Rogaroo too. 

"A hunter?"

"Yeah." He eyes you up suggestively. "How about we do some... research together?"

You were at their motel. It'd been an hour since you came from the bar, the clock read close to midnight. You three were facing an impressive pile of books on the cheap coffee table. Half were lent from the local library.  
In the tiny motel "living room", the three of you were sitting down focusing on your read, occasionally sharing relevant information. On the couch, your legs were resting across Dean's lap while your back was comfy, against the arm rest with a pillow in between. His brother, Sam you learnt his name was, was on his laptop sitting on the chair left.  
The distraction that offered your legs seemed to be what gave Dean the strength to keep doing the kind of "research" he liked least. Sam looked up, at you.

"Found anything?" he asked you.

"Uhm yeah, so as you know, it's genetic. Rugarus live most of their lives not knowing jack and start changing at 30. They suddenly grow so hungry they can't stop themselves, their first victim tends to be a stranger, then they kill people they live with."

"Exactly. Jack's still at an early stage." Sam continued.

"He had a hell of a case of he munchies. Ate pounds of raw beef and other crap." Dean grunted with a grimace.

"We need to find a way to cure Jack or put him down. Soon he'll be running on all fours and acting like a predator. Only fire can hurt them."

"I'll call Bobby in the morning, he might know a cure." Dean grinned.  
"Otherwise we'll need a flame thrower."

He closed his book, having reached the end of it anyway. He seemed satisfied of this, before his expression shifted and he opened his eyes wide because of his brother shoving a new book in his face. He pushed it away and rubbed his eyes, offended by the amount of reading he had just inflicted upon himself.

"Let's get this finished tomorrow." He looked at you, defeated. "This wasn't the kind of research I meant. I'm friggin' tired" He shoved your legs on the side, stood up and went to the bathroom.

Sam clapped his laptop closed and stretched.

"Time for you to go home." 

"Already?"

"You're not tired?" 

If only he knew you'd just slept for fourty years straight.

"Hunting always keeps me awake." 

You feigned a yawn and gathered your things. 

"See you guys tomorrow?" You asked.

"Sure."

Six hours later, you had spent the night doing your own thing. At dawn, the town was peaceful and the sky was slowly shifting into a soft mixture of pink and cyan. A stray black cat tried to rub its back against your ankle miawling. Some black cats can really see demons in the veil then. You thought, surprised.  
You suddenly felt a strong demonic presence, since it was detectable, it was probably a gathering.

In the park right next to the shops, in the veil you saw 3 demons from the distance. You teleported to them. One of their face lit up when they recognized you. You had met Solsteir in the past.

"Hey Y/N ! It's really you. Back from the dead?"

"Hopefully for the last time." you winced.

"How about you?"

"I met some hunters."

"In what condition are their meatsuit in?" chimed in the second demon.

"They're not dead." you clarified.

"Have you gone soft Y/N?" Solsteir laughed .

"I just spent 40 years asleep in some basement, give me a break." 

You looked at the swing in the park which was squeaking creepily in the breeze.  
"What are you doing exactly in here, the middle of town?"

They looked uncomfortable.

"Apparently the Winchesters are in here. They killed Anto" One of the three demons answered.

"They did kill a lot of us." Interjected another.

"They're very dangerous." Solsteir added. "Don't go fight them alone".

Right... Crowley must have omitted this crucial information. How usual of him.

"Hey Y/N, are you after them?"

"Why are you asking this?"

"After you were gone for a few years, I asked about you around in Hell. Someone said Samuel, the Winchesters' grandpa, is the one who killed you, I mean failed to." 

"Huh. Is that so?"

You scoffed. Is that where they had my ring from? What a thief.

Suddenly, all three demons shift their attention away from you- their eyes go wide open. They squint at something behind you.  
"Is that...?"

"Holy shit- IT IS"

They all disappeared away. You look around, confused, all you see is a few people going to work. None could see you in the veil. Wait, no. A person was staring directly at you. Your eyes met and he tilted his head ever so slightly. His trench coat is really ugly, you thought. He felt... dangerous.

You blinked and to your surprise he had vanished. Curious.

CHAPTER 3

After lunch time for humans, you met Sam and Dean at the time and place you had agreed upon, in front of the library. Sam had hust returned from bringing back the books from last night, and you greeted him and his brother, faking sympathy that felt foreign to your demoniac self.

"Did you go see Jack already?" you began.

"Not yet." Sam replied, shielding his eyes from the sun.

"Hand me the gas, Sammy."

Sam obliged and crossed his arms as he watched Dean opening the boot of the Chevy Impala and tossing the gas can in. You acted interested and walked to the boot but he shut it before you could have a peek. Fuck. Distraction.

"Nice car. Is this yours?"

"All mine"  
Dean smiled wide, and slapped it.  
"She's Baby."

Sam rolled his eyes and opened the passenger's seat door while Dean leaned on Baby. 

"We're on our way to check on Jack." Sam started. "We decided that we would tell him what he is."

"Wow. Isn't that going to mess him up even more?"

Dean interjected: "Exactly what I thought. We should take him out before anyone gets hurt. Come in the car. "

You three get in the Chevy Impala, and on the passenger's seat Sam turned to the two of you.  
"I know I can reason with him." He pressed. "Besides, Bobby said there was a cure."

"He also said the ingredients are hard to find. We ain't got the time Sammy. He might have even started killing already."

"Just ask Cass for a favour. He owes us." He replied.

Dean muttered to himself, got in the car and turned on the engine.

You and the Winchesters went up to his front garden where Jack was watering his plants. He looked really uneasy and pale for a human. Looked like he hadn't fed yet, at least.  
You sat at his patio at a little outdoor table. Jack is trying to grasp what you three had revealed to him.

"I'm ... a what?"

"Rugaru. I know, it sounds made-up. But believe me, it ain't." Dean sighs.

"Look. I've noticed certain things... Strange things... but I'm just... I dunno, sick or something..."

"Your father was one of these things. Your real father. He passed it onto you." Sam added.

"No, just listen to yourselves. You sound..." Jack didn't want to admit it to himself.

"Hey," Dean interjected, "you mind if we skip the "you guys are crazy" part, please? You're hungry, Jack. And you're only gonna get hungrier." 

They kept on insisting for a few minutes until he got enough and shouted at you to leave his property. You three got back in the car, defeated.

"He will feed soon. No way he resists any longer." You said.

"We can't know for sure." Sam reminded everyone, Dean rolled his eyes. "But I think we should keep an eye on him."

"Rugarus act out at night. He looks pretty pissed off. We better get out of his sight before he calls the cops on us." 

"Yeah. Y/N, how about we go get some take out?"

You had made up an excuse to not eat with them. A few sips were doable, not food. You insisted you'd look for an ingredient for the cure their "Bobby" had provided the instructions for. As a demon, it took a mere hour in hell and back to get it, and you didn't pay a dime in an old human shop for it. You spent some time to yourself before returning at their motel in the late afternoon.

In the motel room, Dean was assembling a fire thrower while Sam was gathering the ingredients for the cure. You tossed him the bag with yours.  
"Awesome, thanks."

"If he fed, it will be too late to reverse his condition, correct?" You asked, feigning being worried.

"Yup and we would go kick his ass." Dean affirmed, toying with the last piece of his makeshift fire thrower.

"We are giving him the option to come out of this situation. That's what matters. He's a person, not a monster. We're not killers." Sam protested.

The cure was brewing. The smell was irritating your demonic senses. You sat in front of Sam, on the couch who was browsing the internet on his laptop.  
"Hey."

"Hey."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"What's this ring you're wearing?"

"Huh. That was my grandad's"

"His wedding ring?" You faked compassion.

"I guess. It was in Dad's things. It has sentimental value." Sam shrugged.

Dean chimed in, eating crisps from a bag.

"No it's not."

Sam put his laptop aside and raised an offended brow.

"Excuse me?"

"Can't be Samuel's. Have you seen the size of his friggin hands? Dude's huge."

"Because you hallucinated going back in time once doesn't mean you know jack shit." Sam protested.

"That was real."

"Going back in time in dreams isn't possible, Dean."

"You thought angels didn't exist until a year ago!" he argued.

Wait.  
"Angels?"

The brothers looked at each other. Oh here we go again.

"Angels are real?" You repeated.

"Yeah, as much as demons."

They explained to you this concept and your surprise and interest was genuine this time. You were really puzzled. Angels sounded pretty dangerous, you made a mental note to mention this to Crowley or Solsteir. 

"What can we do?" you wondered what they'd do to you if they found out what you are.

"What we've got to do is hunt those sons of bitches. Dean retorted.

He went to the bathroom and, your charms working best one person at a time, you saw the opportunity.

"Sam?"

"Yeah?"

You locked eyes and focus your inner power.  
"Would you give me your ring?"

"What? No-"

No?

What went wrong? It never failed.  
You leaned back, puzzled.

"Why would you even want it?" He frowned.

"Uh, It seems magical, or something." you made up an excuse.

"Well you can't have it. Sorry."

Dean came back. You thought using the bathroom would make you look more human, so you went.  
Before going in, you glanced outside and saw the same man in the ugly trench coat from last time! You locked yourself up in the bathroom.

You heard a knock and the door open-

"Hey Castiel."

"Hello Sam. I brought the ingredient. Has he turned yet?"

"We hope not."

You heard their footsteps around the motel room.

"You have company?"

"Yeah. They're back there."

Oh fuck no, Dean. Why.

"Should I go say hello?" Castiel inquired.

"What the hell, do you even know what a bathroom is for Cass?"

You turned on the shower. You wouldn't hear them very well, but oh well.

Pause.

"Looks like they're busy." Castiel concluded.

Close one.

You couldn't really make out much of what they briefly discussed, so you showered for real to not raise suspicions. You felt quite good, except for one thing that was puzzling you; why didn't your abilities work on Sam?

When you came out, Castiel was gone.

"Cass said there were demons in town. Gotta be careful." Sam reported.

"Demons? What's next, unicorns?" You scoffed.

"Sure you wanna know?"

"No."

Sam's phone biped. The timer was due, and Sam poured the brewed content into a vial.

"Is the cure ready Sammy?" 

"Yeah, 'think so."

"Great, let me guess, we pour it in his cereals?"

"What do you think?"

The Winchesters drove you to the Rugaru's home. Sam confirmed the figure in the window was Jack and lowered the binoculars. You sneaked in behind them, looking at Sam whose ear was pressed against the front door. You held your breath.

You heard a scream. 

Sam kicked the door open and Dean followed, almost running himself into a table.

A figure was crouched over the screaming victim, and in a swift motion bit her neck and turned its head toward you, tearing it open.  
It was Jack, he looked awful. Pale white skin, horrifyingly wrinkled and eyes blood-shot. Sharp teeth stood out from its deformed mouth into a snarl.

"You're really screwed." Dean roared.

The creature a horrible screech out of its lungs and lunged at the Winchesters. 

It only met Dean's fire. 

CHAPTER 4

You were back a the motel. Sam had claimed the shower, leaving you and Dean alone.  
"Shame this thing's only vulnerable to fire." You started.

"Why?"

"I was eager to see your arsenal. Hunters like you always have impressive stuff." You feigned regret.

"Uh. Is this code for something?" He was confused.

"How about you show me your stuff?" You suggested.

He raised a brow. You saw that horny spark awaken in his eyes.

"Guns. I mean guns... Guns."  
Awkward.  
"Please?"

"Yessure." He finally replied, hurrying to grab his keys.

You were truly irresistible.

Needless to say, he was incredibly happy to show you his guns. The boot of the Chevy Impala had a devil's trap on the inside looming over you. It gave you a headache. Dean was showing off his arsenal. No Colt in sight.  
He finally grabbed a wooden box that was buried under the stuff and opened it up, displaying its contents. You feigned ignorance and threw Dean an innocent look.  
"Why'd you keep this one in a box? Is it fragile or something?"

"Sorta. It's very, very precious. We don't want it to get damaged." He paused, admiring it between his fingers.  
"You'll never guess what this one can do."

"What?"

"It can kill a demon."

You almost choked for a second. 

"Guns can't kill demons." You sounded more like it had been a question.

Dean pointed the Colt right at your face.

"Sure as hell can."

He pulled the trigger.

But there was no bullet fired.

Then he directed it on his right, fake shot and then smoothly tucked it in his back pocket mimicking a cowboy.  
He winked playfully and busied himself with other things in the boot while you collected yourself.

Fuck I hate him so much sometimes.

You grabbed his shoulder and made him face you. You locked eyes. Magic at work.

"Give me the gun. You're going to think Crowley took it from you and forget about this."

You went at a crossroads where you knew he would be waiting for you. And, he was.

You handed him the Colt.

He pocketed it in his suit and did a slight turn on his heels, satisfied. You were about to ask about his part of the deal when the air got heavy. His expression shifted from surprise to exasperation. He gestured a small 'oops they did it again' shrug before vanishing, sucked in the shadow.

Crowley was summoned in front of two very pissed off Winchesters in the motel room, furniture pushed aside for the large devil's trap on the floor. You teleported on its outskirt, hidden from all in the veil.

"Hello lovelies."

Dean raised his gun and shot Crowley in the chest. It was but a scratch for a demon, painful nonetheless.  
"Feisty."

"Give us the Colt, Crowley." Sam sneered.

"Who says you can get it back, Moose?"

"Me."

Dean shot again. Crowley turned to him.

"You giving me the silent treatment?"

And again.

Crowley winced.

"Listen here, you little brats. I've got the Colt. I've got Y/N too. I know all about your new friend. You let me out or they die."

A cold shiver ran through their backs.

"Simple- do as I say, or they're screwed."

"Okay. Okay." Dean took his knife out and bent down.

"Are you actually listening to this?" Sam raised his voice, betrayed.

"We can't let them die, Sammy!"

He started scrubbing out the paint on the wooden floor. Crowley dug his hands in his pockets, triumphant. Sam grabbed Dean's arm, stopping him.

"You're not gonna let me?"

"No Dean."

"Why the hell not?"

"Shutup for a second! Something's not right. You're not yourself."

Dean blinked and reconsidered. Sam grabbed his shoulder gently.

"We don't have proof that he has Y/N. For all we know it's a set up. I don't know what has taken onto you but I know you wouldn't jump straight on the demon's side like that."

Dean stood up, pensive. He pointed his finger at Crowley.

"I'm blaming this one on you, son of a bitch."

"Will you stop pointing things at me?"

You dramatically entered the motel room.

"Y/N! Are you okay?" Sam exclaimed.

"Of course they're okay. And right on time." Crowley tilted his head.

This was all Sam needed. He knew.

"You...-"-He growled-  
Crowley cut him off, ignoring him.  
"I don't know if I should be disappointed, or thrilled to see you here. Maybe you can arrange for the later, love?"

Dean was displaying his classic confused Dean face. Crowled sighed.  
"They're a DEMON, you meatheads."

"Are you?" Dean asked, now devoid of expression.

"No." You said.

"Oh okay." 

"DEAN!" his brother shouted.  
"What did you do to him?"  
You ignored Sam and addressed Dean,

"Pin him down and get his necklace for me."

He acted out the first part of the plan, with difficulty. They fell down, wrestling. They were quite a sight.

"What the hell Dean?! Snap out of it" 

"Don't get me wrong Sam, I'm simply getting back what's mine". You declared.  
"Samuel stole if from me. You don't even use it. All you do is parading it like a trophee."

Sam got the upper hand on his brother and pinned him down.

"Let me and my brother go or I'm gonna rip you to shred." he grunted.

Crowley clapped his hands.

"Hello? Are you done? How about letting me out of there for one thing?"

You stomped on the wooden floor which sent bits of flanks flying, breaking the painted circle. Unbound, Crowley walked free. He looked down at Sam with disdain.

"That's what you get, working with a demon."

Sam was still wrestling his brother who had now the upper hand, on the floor. He grunted out of anger, and shouted:

"CAAAAAASS!"

"Right. That was fun boys, see you next time." Crowley said in a hoarse voice.  
"You should go right about now if you don't want to become a pile of ashes."

Dean still hadn't retrieved your ring from his brother's necklace, you weren't ready to leave. A strange noise made your skin crawl. Looking on your right, you saw Castiel.

"Go get this one." You commanded Dean.

Dean let go of Sam and lunged at Castiel, in what looked like a weird hug. Castiel didn't bulge despite Dean's best efforts to wrestle him. He looked at the other man, confused, before laying two fingers on Dean's temples. He fell back. Dean was out of it.

You got out of there while they were distracted.

Fuck.

Crowley had gotten everything out of it- the Colt, and a fun distraction. You had nothing.

He appeared besides you, looking in the distance.

"A deal's a deal. I don't break deals. We'll find a way."


End file.
